


Remember - Forget

by PolarGrizz47



Series: Daemon Overwatch AU [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Daemon Separation, F/F, Non Consensual Daemon Touching, Repressed Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 13:33:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7053814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolarGrizz47/pseuds/PolarGrizz47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She feels as if Widowmaker is squeezing her heart, warmth and unease spilling into her veins as the assassin saves her daemon, the unknown and treacherous touch feeling like needles throbbing into her nerves.</p><p> </p><p>Or, more Overwatch Daemon au!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember - Forget

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'ed. Gave myself feels with this one. ;____;

She wears him much like a scarf. His sinuous and warm body pressing against her throat while his nervous chirps echo in her ear as she blinks about. “C’mon, Charlie,” Lena says with a laugh, racing across the rooftops just for practice. “This is fun!”

“About as fun,” He huffs, claws digging into her sternum, “As a bloody horror show.”

“Aw, luv,” Tracer tutts, allowing herself to fall in midair with her arms outstretched. “You’re just a spoil sport.”

-:-

Widowmaker sees her before Tracer is even aware of her presence. Golden eyes watch while she struts about down the street, looking for something to eat if the assassin had to guess. Through her scope, she could just barely make out her daemon’s head poking out from above her furred jacket collar. Widowmaker narrows her eyes, finger hovering over the trigger. She can see the ferrets unique fur coloring, his eyes painted as if he was wearing a little brown mask. Tufts of white, brown and black fur offer an odd picture for most rodent’s, but Tracer’s daemon wears it well.

If she wanted to, Widowmaker could blast a hole right through his skull, leaving nothing but carnage in her wake. She’d emotionally, and possibly mentally, cripple Tracer with just a single shot. It’d be so _easy_.

She’d seen it done before. People who have lost their daemon’s falling into comas, only to slip away in their sleep. Those that survive are a shell of their former self, unable to cope with the loss of their other half.

Whoever said that she liked easy prey didn’t really know her. She lifts the gun away from her face, smirking as Tracer finally blinks out of sight. “Ah, mon chérie. One day, the time will be right.”

-:-

Tracer swings her leg out after blinking back into time, managing to knock Widowmaker in the gut before the assassin returns the hit with a savage kick of her own. Tracer skitters to the side, finding her footing before blinking towards the woman again. “C’mon, luv,” She mocks, toying with the older woman as she blinks from place to place, always one step ahead. “Aren’t you even _trying_ today?”

Widowmaker hisses, slamming her gun to the left before racing away from Tracer, jumping over rooftops effortlessly as she runs atop the city. The younger gives chase, laughing audibly as they bounce about in the night sky.

“This is madness,” Charlie groans, voice low and body wrapped tightly around her neck, clinging to her as they zip about. He usually was more cheerful, even stealing agents keys and hoarding them in his own collection of shiny things time and again, but whenever they fought Widowmaker, the ferret became uneasy and stiff.

Tracer lands on the rooftop, very nearly slipping as a hand dives out to steady herself. Widowmaker turns, weapon in hand before sending a spray of bullets in her direction. The young woman dives for cover, rolling behind an electrical box as bullets fly overhead. “This is fun, Charlie. C’mon now, mate! Smile!”

The ferret hisses at her instead, eyes wide as the bullets pause, and Tracer comes zipping out. Widowmaker is gone and Charlie breathes a sigh of relief. “Let her go, there is nothing to be done now, she’s been scared off her target.”

“Ya don’t know that!” Tracer snaps, guns tight in her palms as she searches about. There’s a movement towards her left and she spins around only to greeted with a rifle butt to the head. She stumbles back, her teeth clattering together and tongue now bleeding. “Hey now!” Tracer slurs, taking a step back before being sent sprawling to the ground as Widowmaker lands a punishing kick to her chest. The accelerator sends a jolt through her body, the blue light dying as a pained gasp slipped between Tracer’s jaw. She lands on her back, the wind knocked out of her and Charlie hissing once more.

Widowmaker grins, planting a heeled boot onto the younger woman’s chest. “Awe, darling. I thought you said this was _fun_ ,” She punctuates the word with a harsh kick to Tracer’s side, the time traveling agent yelping underfoot and her ferret yowling in sympathy pains.

Before she can pull her leg away, the rodent strikes unexpectedly. Charlie’s body uncoiled and sprung forwards, little fangs sinking into Widowmaker’s thigh as he scrambled up the length of her chrome boot. The assassin snarls, kicking her leg out and sending Charlie tumbling across the rooftop. He comes to a stop with another feral hiss and Tracer stiffens, her pupils shrinking as rage boils inside of her.

“ _Do not touch him!_ ” She shouts, lunging up with another blink, slamming Widowmaker against the damaged electrical box. Pain blossoms against her ribs and her back, but the assassin forces herself to remain strong.

“Daemons are a weakness,” The elder warns, voice curling and angry as she struggles against Tracer’s surprisingly strong grip.

Lena’s grip tightens, teeth slotting together as she bares her even teeth at the assassin. “You wouldn’t know, luv.”

Something unwinds in Widowmaker’s chest, feeling fierce and raw as she suddenly slams her knee in Tracer’s gut. “Do not speak as if you know me, _child_!” She spat, spinning Tracer around and tossing her onto the other side of the roof.

She spins her rifle in her hand, aiming one shot that lands easily into the electrical box’s generator, creating a spray of blue and yellow sparks that send the rooftop in disarray. The perfect cover to escape in, Widowmaker thinks, right before the box explodes and sends all occupants of the rooftop outwards in separate directions.

Tracer is in shock, her eyes wide and mouth agape as she is shoved off the roof and into the air by the sheer force of the electrical explosion, the static in the air making her accelerator fritz out, leaving her dead weight in the sky.

More importantly, the familiar and comforting weight of Charlie is not wrapped around her neck. She screams then, loud and piercing as fear burns throughout her body. Charlie was on the other side of the roof, and if the explosion had knocked her away, it certainly had sent her small daemon soaring.

No, no, _no_ \- she cannot - _will_ _not_ \- live without her best friend, her other half - her _daemon_.

Her shrieking cries jerk Widowmaker out of her stupor, her instincts on high alert as she sends her grappling hook into a nearby brick wall. It digs in easily, supporting her weight as she assesses her situation in a matter of nanoseconds.

Something catches her attention in her peripheral, a small, lithe body winding in the air like a ragdoll, helpless. The ferret, she thinks, Tracer’s daemon.

The rodent is falling, just like all of them, towards an untimely death. Tracer could rebound, could blink about and save herself, but her daemon? He’d be dead before Tracer could even lunge towards him.

Something raw and painful aches deep within her chest. Something urges her hand, pushes her to save her enemies daemon, and thus, Tracer’s _life_.

Before she can even think, instinct drives her to dive for the squirming, falling daemon. Her gloved hand closes around the ferret’s middle, squeezing him tight as searing pain - or was that _pleasure_ \- jolted down her spine, stealing her breath away.

She felt  _alive_ for a few, precious moments.

It is something that she thinks that she felt once… before… _before_ -

Lena’s screams are abruptly stopped, her accelerator flickering back to life just moments before she slams into the ground, and with a blink, she was now curled up on the ground, unharmed - physically at least.

She feels as if Widowmaker is squeezing her heart, warmth and unease spilling into her veins as the assassin saves her daemon, the unknown and treacherous touch feeling like needles throbbing into her nerves.

She feels cold and hot at the same time, alive and yet dead. It’s painful, it’s unwanted, and Tracer feels conflicted.

She feels… _empty_.

The assassin had saved Charlie, but at what costs?

Widowmaker lands in front of her with a hiss, shaking as she deposits the ferret atop Tracer’s chest. For a moment, all stay in precarious silence, feeling as if they were just forced incredibly close.

Their souls laid bare, open, _vulnerable_.

Then, Widowmaker gathers her wits and darts off into the night, leaving the agent to lay frozen on the ground. Charlie gasps, his breath ragged and eyes wide as he instinctively curls tighter against Lena, burying himself into her throat.

“She - She,” He begins, feeling assaulted and yet saved.

Tracer’s eyes are wet with tears, and she bundles her other half into her arms, pressing her face into his soft, clean fur. “S-So-So cold… so empty…” She repeats, breaking off into sobs as she frantically smoothes her hands over Charlie’s fur, trying to pick up the pieces and make sense of what they’d just experienced. “Alone… oh god, she’s so _alone…_ ”

“She has no daemon,” Charlie suddenly blurts, eyes glassed over and body limp and tired, but alive. Thanks to Widowmaker’s quick thinking.

“No… no - I felt… _something…_ anything…” Tracer babbles, mind racing much like her abilities. “Alone… stolen…”

“ _Separated_.” Charlie finishes, and both their bodies tense at the horror of that idea. To be separated from each other meant death. It meant cold clutches and icy horrors. Tracer can’t bear the thought, holding him tight and sobbing even harder into his lithe body.

For a long while, they cry into the darkness, their sorrow shared and hearts bleeding for an enemy who, supposedly, knew no remorse.

-:-

Widowmaker stands in her room, staring out at the rooftops and touching at her chest. She’d never felt so… alive. But she had, oh, she _had_. Once upon a time, she was not alone. Her heart aches and her mind cannot fill in the _blanks_.

Thinking too hard about it makes her feel faint, and she braces herself against the nearest surface, pausing as she feels porcelain under her touch. Confusion flits across her features, she looks down at the sink and wonders how she came into the bathroom so suddenly. Throat dry, heart pounding, she lifts her face up to regard her blue reflection. She thinks she can see a flicker of something familiar in her golden eyes, an animal perhaps… a _home…_

Her head pangs in agony, and she grips at her hair before letting out a confused shout at the ceiling, already trying to suppress herself, forget the past.

Forget it!

But she… she doesn’t want to be alone anymore.

Please…

 _Please_.

-:-

Tracer stands across from her, Charlie perched along her throat and serious expression plaguing her normally youthful features. “Thank you,” She spoke quietly, watching while Widowmaker takes a step back.

They pause for a moment, and the assassin finally offers her a nod of the head. “Do not think this means I will not kill you myself if need be,” Widowmaker hisses, wrapping the webbed cord around her ankle and preparing herself for a quick escape.

“I know,” Tracer remarks, her features still void of any usual happiness. “I can help you,” The younger starts, throat tight as she whispers, “You don’t have to be alone.”

Widowmaker blinks, her heart clenching painfully as she forces herself to remain calm. “I think I am beyond helping, chérie.” And with that, she’s diving backward off the building, out of sight.

Tracer stands there, basking in the gentle breeze and mentally debating with herself while Charlie tightens his hold on her. “Duty calls,” He finally chirps, and Lena finally feels a smile bloom onto her features as she gives chase.

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAHHH. This ship hurts so much gosh darn it! ;---;
> 
> I hope you liked this.
> 
> Lena's daemon; http://www.biogroom.com/app/wp-content/themes/biogroom/images/animals/ferret_large.png


End file.
